Playing With Fire
by Silver Beauty
Summary: I can't write summaries. I need a broader canvas.
1. Default Chapter

Title: Playing With Fire  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own Monica or Tess or Andrew (more's the pity, what I couldn't do with him... oh, wait, he's Sarah's. Never mind.) or Touched By An Angel. The only things I own here are the things you don't recognize.  
  
Author's Notes: I started writing this because I couldn't find any TBAA fics that involved Andrew and Monica getting together, and then about halfway through, I found some on this site. But I had to finish it just to prove to myself that I could do it (and to get my best pal off my back... you know who you are) so here it is! I know the chapters are really short, but it's just how they wound up. To stretch them out would have compromised what I was doing, and it's bad enough as it is. That said, hope you enjoy...   
  
***  
The wind was blowing softly. Not so much that she couldn't feel it: just enough so that her hair blew into her face, obscuring her view of the busy California expressway. Cars sped by, horns honking, brakes squealing, voices shouting out the windows accompanied with a shaking fist before the car moved on. Such organized pandemonium.  
  
"It's a wonder there aren't more accidents," Monica said softly, watching a VW Beetle swerve around a van that had stopped suddenly. "How can people take such risks? Don't they understand how precious life is? What a wonderful gift God has given them?"  
  
"Well, it's not something you can really understand, baby." Tess said. "At least until that gift is in danger. People don't realize that even while their heart goes on beating, and their lungs go on breathing, one day they are going to stop. And most don't realize that one day could come very soon."  
  
Monica followed Tess' eyes to the four lanes of nonstop traffic. "Who is my assignment, then?"  
  
"There's a young girl who does understand the value of life. But that doesn't necessarily mean that she understands everything about it. There's a wall around her heart, angel girl, and you've got to help her break it down. Before it's too late."  
  
Monica nodded and felt another presence behind her. "Andrew. Are you assigned to this little girl too?"  
  
"She's not exactly a little girl, Monica," he said distractedly as he watched the cars. "And I'm not here for what you think."  
  
"God must have very big plans for this girl then." Monica said. "For her to warrant three angels."  
  
"Well, that is true, but it's also because we're all going to be needed here. And I have a feeling there's something about this case that the Father hasn't told us."   
  
As Tess spoke those words, a van was forced off the road. The angels watched as the driver struggled to keep control, but couldn't; and it fell over onto its side and slid across the four lanes of cars. Andrew started to walk to the side of the road where it came to a stop.   
  
"Andrew!" Monica called. "I thought—"  
  
He shook his head, the message clear. I don't know. But I'm here if they need me.   
  
"He's just doing his job, angel girl. Although I hope just as much as you do that he doesn't need to."  
  
Andrew stopped about ten feet away from the overturned van. A blue Taurus slowed, then pulled over to the side, and a girl with strawberry-blonde shoulder length hair jumped out, running to the van. Andrew furrowed his brow slightly, watching her approach the passenger side door, which was in the air.  
  
"Hello? Is everyone all right?" She jumped once, then started to climb up the car to pull open the door. Andrew, Tess, and Monica stood together closer, to watch from their angelic view. No one could see them.  
  
A faint groan came from the driver's seat, and the girl spoke again. "Sir, can you hear me? Are you ok?" Apparently he was, for they next heard a rather strong voice.  
  
"My son."  
  
The girl pulled out a cellular phone and called for help while the father handed a small child to her through the door. The angels could see the blood from where they stood, and watched nervously. Carefully holding the boy close to her chest, she managed to get to the ground and finished her call. From their vantage point, they could see that his leg was broken. The father, now climbing down from the car, had a bad cut on his head and was bleeding profusely.   
  
"We should get away from here," the girl said. "I don't know if you want to be around that gas tank in case it explodes." She looked toward her car, parked far enough away as to be safe. "We can wait for the ambulance there."  
  
No sooner than they'd gotten there, the van suddenly burst into a fireball of flame. The father sank against the Taurus, holding his son. "We would've died." He repeated over and over. "We would've died. How can we thank you?"  
  
The girl shook her head and smiled. "You better not make any sudden movements, sir. You might have a concussion."  
  
Suddenly she turned and looked directly at them. Monica and Tess didn't even flinch; they knew they were invisible. But Andrew saw something in her eyes…  
  
An hour later, the scene had been cleaned up and the girl was about to get back in her car and go home.  
  
"That's what gives back my faith in humans." Said Monica happily, watching the car disappear down the road. "Such random acts of kindness."  
  
"And you're bound to see more, Miss Wings." Tess said. "That girl there was Amy White. She's our assignment." 


	2. Chapter two

Amy looked up as the doorbell rang. Tess waited patiently while she looked out, then opened it cautiously. "Can I help you?"  
  
"Yes, hello. My name is Tess. I'm here for the babysitting job."  
  
"Oh yeah, my mom told me about you. Come on in. Christopher's over here." She led Tess to a baby swing in the corner.   
  
"Oh, he's beautiful."  
  
"You have until the end of the night to take back that sentiment." Amy said dryly. "Now, I've got a game at the high school, my parents are out of town, I don't know how long…"  
  
"Oh yes, where did they go?"  
  
"Number's on the fridge. They're in Florida for my grandfather's funeral. They figured they'd stay with my grandma until she got back on her feet. It, uh—it shook her up pretty bad."  
  
"I imagine the death of a loved one would shake anyone up."  
  
"Yeah. Well, that's why you're here. I have to play basketball pretty much every night for school the rest of Christmas break, although that's really only a few more days, and don't be alarmed if you come and there's someone in the kitchen. We hired a cook just before my grandpa passed away, and she's supposed to start tomorrow. And…" She clapped her hands together. "I think that's about it. Emergency numbers all in the kitchen, Prince Charming here has already been fed, and… I'm late." She grabbed her bag and keys, shouting behind her as she walked out the door. "I'll be back around eleven, so don't wait up, bed's made up in the guest room, first door on the right, Christopher is across the hall and I'm next door to him…" And the door slammed.  
  
  
  
Amy strode in confidently, looking for her best friend Sara. She found her on the bleachers lacing up her shoes.  
  
"Hey girl, what's up?" She flopped down next to her.  
  
"Amy, what are you doing here? Why aren't you in Florida for your grandpa's funeral?"  
  
"Ah…" she didn't look up from her shoes. "I was never really that close to him. My parents didn't even offer to let me come. Said I should stay home and watch Christopher, get their money's worth out of this camp, and make sure the cook doesn't steal anything."  
  
"Poor little rich girl." Sara teased, like she always did. "Like your parents couldn't just hire someone else to do all that."  
  
"Hey, girls." A shadow fell over them and they looked up. "I'm Andrew. I'm gonna be taking over for your coach these next few weeks."  
  
"Huh?" Amy looked up. "What happened to Coach Wilson?"  
  
"She had to go out of town for an emergency."   
  
"Oh. Well, I'm Amy."  
  
"Sara."  
  
"So…" Andrew sat on the bleacher next to them. "Anything I should know before I get myself in trouble?"  
  
"Not really." Amy said, eyeing him carefully. "Just don't let us lose."  
  
Andrew laughed. "Ok, great. No pressure, then. Um… are the other girls in the locker room?"  
  
"Probably." Amy said, with a sly grin. "Knock first."  
  
He laughed slightly. "Ok, great. I'll see you in there." He got up and left. Sara stared after him.  
  
"Wow."  
  
"What?"  
  
"He… is… cute."  
  
"Have we met him before?" Amy looked intently at their new coach as he stood near the door. "I could've sworn I've seen him somewhere before."  
  
"I think I'd remember."  
  
"Yeah, of course you would." Amy shook off the nagging feeling and got up. "Come on. Let's get ready to run."  
  
  
  
"Andrew?" A soft Irish voice startled him from behind the bench, and he spun around.  
  
"Monica?"  
  
"How's it going?"  
  
"Not bad. We're winning, although I didn't have much to do with that. Amy's really good."  
  
"Yes, she is." Monica watched as the young girl caught the ball behind the 3-point arc and lofted it toward the basket to score again.  
  
"So why are you here?" Andrew asked, puzzled.   
  
"I'm supposed to be the trainer. I take care of the athletes who get hurt during the games."  
  
Andrew nodded and turned his attention to the game again. "Katie, why don't you go in for Amy, give her a break." He said to one of the girls on the bench. She nodded and knelt by the scorekeeper's table, waiting for her chance. It would never come.  
  
Amy got the ball on a fast break, and tore off toward the basket. Suddenly a slew of memories caught her mind, and her eyes teared up. Practicing in the back yard, reading letters, always waiting, meeting the mail carrier… She slowed down involuntarily, then remembered where she was. She had to finish this play. Then she could sit down. But a member of the other team had caught up to her by now, and as she jumped up for the lay-up, Amy got body slammed. As she fell to the ground, she felt her ankle bend painfully in the wrong direction just before her head crashed down on the court. I can't breathe… She thought, panicking. The wind had been knocked out of her; there were stars in front of her eyes, her leg felt on fire… God, help…  
  
  
  
Andrew clenched his teeth, running out on the court. The officials stopped play, gathering all the players on the other side of the court to prevent interference. The girl who had fouled her was in tears. Monica smiled gently at her. She didn't mean to do what she'd done.  
  
"Is she all right?" She asked, kneeling beside Andrew. She was almost afraid to look at him for fear that she'd see the telltale glow that preceded the girl's death. But he was still very human, and he looked worried.  
  
"You're the trainer, you tell me. I mean, it looks like she sprained her ankle pretty badly, but I don't know about her head. She hit it pretty hard."  
  
"I think she has a contusion." Monica said. "Why don't we move her to my office over there? That way she'll have a better place to lie down."  
  
"Ok. C'mon, Amy, stay with us, ok?" Andrew whispered, gently picking her up in his arms and carrying her into the small room. Outside, play resumed.  
  
"Lay her down here, baby." Tess said, standing by an examining table. Andrew carefully maneuvered his way through the room and set her down. Then he looked closer.  
  
"Tess, she's not breathing." He said, startled. "It's not her time yet."  
  
"Then save her." Tess said calmly. "That's the plan for now. She has to learn a few lessons yet before it comes to that."  
  
Andrew sighed, putting his mouth on hers, breathing life into her lungs. After a few compressions, she started to cough violently. Tess slowly left the room.  
  
"Amy?" Monica asked, leaning toward her. "Can you hear me?"  
  
"I feel sick." Was all she could get out, and Monica helped her up, leading her to the bathroom in the connecting room. Andrew waited nervously for a few moments until they came back out.   
  
"Lay back down." Monica said, helping her up to the table. "Do you remember anything?"  
  
"I, uh… I got a fast break, I think. And then I got fouled… I don't know."  
  
"You slowed down." Amy looked up to see Andrew's eyes boring into her. "Were you tired?"   
  
"I—slowed down?" She ducked her head. "Yeah, it's been a long day. I must've been tired."  
  
The angels eyed each other. She was lying. But the time hadn't come yet for them to push the issue. Monica leaned a pair of crutches against the wall and approached the young athlete. "Amy, I'm going to wrap some ice onto your foot and then I'll have Andrew take you home. I want you to keep your ankle elevated. And you won't be playing basketball for a while."  
  
Amy groaned, holding her head in her hands. "Did I at least make the basket?"   
  
Andrew laughed; he couldn't help it. "Yeah. Yeah, you made it."  
  
Amy lay back down, letting Monica do her thing. "Thank God for small blessings." 


	3. Chapter three

Amy woke up early the next morning, but couldn't find the will to get out of bed. Her old blanket barely protected her from the chill of the house, and she glared at the ceiling. Why was it so cold in here?  
  
"Knock-knock…" Tess poked her head in. "Hey, baby, how you feelin'?"  
  
"Like I sprained my ankle and got a contusion."  
  
"Well, what a coincidence." She said, stepping fully into the room. "That's exactly what happened."  
  
"Why is it so cold in here?"  
  
"Is it?" Tess shrugged. "The heater's working fine, but there's quite a wind chill outside. Now are you going to have to stay in bed all day or what?"  
  
Amy rolled her eyes. "Don't count on it. I bet you didn't expect to be babysitting two people."  
  
"The more the merrier." Tess said cheerfully. "Would you like anything for breakfast?"  
  
"I can get it." Amy reached over for the crutches, which she'd leaned against the wall next to her bed.  
  
"Now, baby, you'd better be careful."  
  
"I can take care of myself, Tess, don't worry. You just watch Christopher. I'll be fine." She hobbled out of the room, trying to make a graceful exit. Tess sat heavily on the bed she'd just vacated.   
  
"Father, I know you only give us as much as we can handle… but you've got me on the list for sainthood with this one."  
  
"She's very stubborn, isn't she?" Monica asked, appearing with Andrew.  
  
"Tess, I still don't understand. What is it exactly that we're supposed to be doing here?" Andrew asked, sitting at Amy's desk.  
  
"We are supposed to be teaching this girl to feel." Tess said, picking a box up off the vanity. "And what do you make of this?"  
  
"Batteries, cases, cleaners…" Andrew opened one of the smaller boxes inside. "Hearing aids."  
  
"I didn't notice that." Monica said, surprised.  
  
"They're the kind that fit inside your ear," Andrew said, looking closely at them. "I didn't see them either. How long has she had them?"  
  
"Well, she's had a hearing disability since birth. She's had the hearing aids since kindergarten. It's a disability she's adapted to marvelously, until recently."  
  
"What happened?" Andrew put the things down and folded his hands behind his head.  
  
"High school happened. She became self-conscious, and has trouble with crowd situations. She doesn't go out with groups of friends because she can't follow the conversations and hates to have to ask people over and over to repeat what they said. A few months ago she quit her first job at the Theater down the street."  
  
"The Theater?" Monica asked. "Is she an actress?"  
  
"No, baby, the Theater has a stage, but it's also a banquet hall. She was a busgirl. But she had to answer to people her age, immature people. Boys who talked down to her. She didn't get respect, and that was a big thing. She hates the word 'retard', because she thinks that's how some people view her, and she's determined to be normal."  
  
"She certainly seems normal." Andrew said hesitantly. "But did you notice anything… off?"  
  
"What do you mean?" Monica asked.  
  
The Angel of Death worked his jaw, looking down the hallway she'd just gone down. "I don't know. Just a feeling."  
  
"Well, you'd better go, babies." Tess said. "I think Christopher is—"  
  
The baby wailed from the room next door. The other two angels smiled.   
  
"I think we'll stop by later," Andrew said. "Just to check up on how she's doing."  
  
But he was speaking to an empty room.  
  
  
  
A few hours later, there was a knock at the door.  
  
"I'll get it!" Amy called from the dining room.  
  
"No you won't, you will sit right there. Lord knows we need that fire."   
  
Amy shrugged and went back to lighting the logs she'd managed to stack in the fireplace. Tess balanced Christopher on her hip and opened the door.  
  
"Hey. Is Amy around?" Came a rather familiar voice. She looked back.  
  
"Andrew?"  
  
"Yeah. How's your leg?" He walked the rest of the way into the living room. "I brought Monica with me to look at it. And Sara called me and said your coach usually works out with you in the morning."  
  
Amy's eyes lit up. "Yeah! We got the weights downstairs."  
  
"Now, Amy, I don't know if you should—"  
  
"Oh, come on, Monica, I'll just work my arms. I won't do anything to my leg. Please?"  
  
Monica sighed, looking at Andrew. "All right. But how are you planning on getting downstairs on crutches?"  
  
"I've done it before. I'll do it again." She stuck one crutch out and used it to push herself up off the ground. "There's your fire, Tess."  
  
"Thank you, baby." She sat in front of it with Christopher. "We'll just sit here while your crazy sister goes downstairs and kills herself, ok? Yes we will…"  
  
Amy rolled her eyes and started through the dining room to the kitchen and down the stairs. Immediately to the right was the workout room she and her dad had set up. Next to that was the rec room and under the stairs was the laundry room. Andrew raised an eyebrow, looking around.  
  
"Not a bad place."   
  
"I like it." She said, sitting herself on the bench. "Spot me?"  
  
"Sure." He positioned himself behind her, keeping a hand out to catch the bar in case it should drop. Monica sat down on a machine nearby.   
  
"Have you been having any trouble with that?" She asked, pulling out a bandage. "Shooting pain?"  
  
"Only when I step on it." She gasped out, heaving the bar upward once more before finishing. "I assume that's natural." She hopped over to the Universal and began to set the weight. Andrew wandered around, hands behind his back, looking at the awards on the wall.  
  
"Cross country, track, basketball, tennis, basketball, basketball, basketball…" He turned to her. "Sounds like you keep busy."  
  
"I try." She said, gritting her teeth. "Helps to have something to concentrate on. Keeps your mind off stuff."  
  
"You have a lot of stuff to think about?" Monica asked softly. Amy didn't reply. "Amy?"  
  
"Huh? Say that again?"  
  
"I asked if you had a lot of stuff to think about."  
  
She snorted. "I'm sixteen, Monica. What do you think?"  
  
"I think you didn't get tired yesterday." Andrew sat on a bench directly across from her, so she couldn't avoid his gaze. "I haven't known you for very long, but already I can tell you're not the kind of person who slows down for no reason when you have somewhere to go."  
  
"Yeah. Well, Andrew, I'm human. What can I say? Maybe I didn't eat lunch that day."  
  
"Did you?"   
  
Amy sighed and let the weight drop. "Look, my business is my business. You don't want to get involved, believe me."  
  
"Is it drugs?" Monica asked, though she really didn't think it was.  
  
"No! Are you crazy?" Amy glared at her. "That's the last thing I need."  
  
"Good." Said Andrew. "Then what was it?"  
  
"I thought of something, ok?" She threw up her hands. "I happened to think of something, and it distracted me. That's all. I made a mistake. People do that, you know."  
  
"Yes they do." Andrew nodded. "But I don't think that's the end of it."  
  
"I think you'd better go." Amy crossed her arms and looked at the ground. "I, uh… I don't think I want to lift anymore today. I'll just get tired."  
  
Andrew looked at her, not speaking. Finally she looked up at him, and he thought he saw her eyes moisten. "Ok. We'll go. I'll be back tomorrow morning in case you want to do something then."  
  
"Whatever." She grabbed her crutches and made her way into the rec room, dropping onto the couch.  
  
"Walls, walls, walls…" Andrew muttered, running a hand through his hair. "Why can't I get through to her?"  
  
"I wasn't able to either," Monica reminded him. "Give it time, Andrew. I'm sure we have some."  
  
"Yeah. But how much?" He asked softly, looking at the door to the other room. "I need to help her." 


	4. Chapter four

Amy spent the night downstairs, turning the furnace up all the way to keep warm. When she woke up, she felt curiously strong.  
  
"This calls for some music," she muttered, looking through her cd's. Finally finding the one she wanted, she put it in the stereo and swallowed a few times before the music came through. 'It Came Upon A Midnight Clear' drifted through the speakers, and Amy began to sing. This was a source of comfort for her, more so than basketball and training and running. Nothing cleared her head better than a good song session. Closing her eyes, Amy wandered to the middle of the room, standing near the pool table. She straightened her torso, stood upright, and focused on the high notes. She was pretty sure she was a soprano, but no one had ever told her for sure.  
  
Slowly, she came down from her daze as the song ended. Nothing like it on heaven or earth. Apparently, Tess thought so as well.  
  
"Baby, that was beautiful," she said, smiling.  
  
"Uh—" She croaked, spinning around. "I, uh…" No one had ever heard her sing before, except… "What are you doing down here?"  
  
"I came to wake you up. Breakfast is ready. The cook made pancakes."  
  
"Oh." Amy breathed out, reaching for her crutches. "There's a game tonight, isn't there?"  
  
Tess looked at her. "You don't seriously think you're going to play, do you?"  
  
"No, I just—want to be there. I can watch from the bench. I should still go, right?" Amy turned pleading eyes on her guardian. "Couldn't I call Andrew and ask him to pick me up? Oh, wait." She sighed, dejected. "I don't know his number."  
  
"Isn't he coming this morning?"  
  
"Yeah." She said. "I guess."  
  
"What's wrong?"  
  
Amy clenched her teeth. "Nothing. Pancakes, huh?" She tried to get past, but Tess barred the door with her arm.  
  
"You listen, baby, and listen good. Getting upset is not going help you."  
  
"I'm not upset." She pushed through. "I'm fine. I'm always fine."  
  
  
  
Andrew came an hour later, and after fifteen minutes, left again. "I don't know, Tess," he said. "What does it take?"  
  
"Love, baby." She said, bouncing Christopher on her knee. "That child's in need of some good old-fashioned TLC. And you're going to be the one to give it to her. You're the only one she seems to listen to."  
  
"Me?" Andrew didn't understand. "I'm not getting through to her, Tess, although you know I've been trying."  
  
"She sang this morning, Andrew." Tess said. "She only does that when she's happy. And she hasn't been happy for some time now. I think you're starting to help."  
  
"I hope so. I can't explain it, Tess, but she's got this hold on me. And—"  
  
"Listen, Angel Boy, I know it's hard. But try not to get too attached to this girl. We won't be leaving for a while, and if it's going to break your heart when we do, then something's going to have to give. You know that."  
  
Andrew sighed. "I know. I'll be back at five to pick her up."  
  
  
  
Amy waited impatiently on the front porch until Andrew drove up in a red Cadillac. "Hop in, Amy." He said, opening the door for her.  
  
"Cool car." She said admiringly.  
  
"Thanks. It's not mine, though; it belongs to a friend. Mine's in the shop."  
  
"Oh. So…" Amy pulled out a piece of paper.  
  
"What's that?"  
  
"Scouting report. Big game tonight, you know." And I can't play… Amy shook her head. "We're gonna have to play our best."  
  
"I'll take whatever help you can give me," Andrew said, grinning. "Somehow I think you'll do a better job than me."  
  
"We'll see." Suddenly Amy was quiet, looking at the landscape as they drove to the school. "We'll see."  
  
  
  
"Sara, screen! Screen!" Amy shouted from the bench, watching her friend fight around the larger opponent in time to get to the ball. "Dang. That was close."  
  
Andrew bit his lip, looking at the clock. He could tell this game meant a lot to Amy, and the score was tied with ten seconds left. Suddenly, the other team lost control of the ball and it bounced out of bounds at half court.  
  
"Time out. Andrew, call a time out!" Amy hissed, and he complied. "Ok, guys, we're gonna run Jordan. Trina, bring it up, set the screens hard…"  
  
"But—" Trina looked puzzled.  
  
"What?" Amy asked.  
  
"This is a play for you. It calls for a three."  
  
"Oh. Shoot, you're right. Ok. Pack it in. Same play, close up. The shot should be about the free-throw line. Sara, you're the shooter."  
  
Sara's eyes widened. "Me?"  
  
"Girl, listen. You never miss that shot. You're not going to miss it now. And even if you did, it's not like we've lost. We still got overtime. Ok? Don't even sweat it."  
  
She sighed. "Ok."  
  
Andrew looked at Amy, admiration open on his face. She saw it. "What?"  
  
"That was a good speech."  
  
"Yeah, well, let's just hope it got through." She started tapping the play board against her thigh in agitation. "Come on, come on, Trina, set that up… ok… oh, God, please…" Andrew watched her fold her hands and hold them against her mouth as her friend caught the ball and shot it… 


	5. Chapter five

Andrew looked at Amy from his place at the other end of the table. Sara had made the shot, just as Amy had predicted, and one of the parents had offered to take the whole team out for pizza to celebrate. Amy was being hailed as a hero, and Sara's shot was replayed in detail over and over. Amy was talking and laughing with her friends, but Andrew could see something in her eyes: some deep sadness that no one had enlightened him about yet. And if there was one thing Andrew hated, it was being in the dark about something. But still, what was he to do?  
  
Finally, the evening was over, and Andrew helped Amy back into the car. "That was a good play you guys ran," he started, pulling into traffic.  
  
"I just did what any coach would do." She said quietly.  
  
"Hey. Amy." Andrew took his eyes from the road just long enough to look at her. "It's ok to be proud. You really came through. I wouldn't have known to do that. Without you, you probably would've lost." Amy sighed. "What's really wrong?"  
  
"Nothing."  
  
"Amy." Andrew said, disgusted with himself. He pulled abruptly into a parking lot and turned off the car. "Come on. This is not healthy. You gotta talk to me."  
  
"Why? I know there's nothing you can do." Her voice began to crack. "You can't bring my grandfather back."  
  
Andrew leaned back in his seat. It was so simple. Why hadn't he thought of it himself? "Why didn't you go to Florida?"  
  
"Why would I? As far as my parents know, I haven't spoken to my grandpa since he and grandma moved. They don't know about the letters he wrote me when I was so scared I wouldn't make the basketball team. They don't know about the tape I made of my singing because he said he wanted to hear me again, that he missed my singing from when we used to visit. They don't know that we had a running game of chess by mail that was almost over, that would be over by now, except he's dead. He's dead, and I can't—I—" Amy looked out the window. No tears. Andrew reached over and put a hand on her back. Immediately, she stiffened. "But that's no reason to sit here all night. I'm tired."  
  
Andrew wanted to push a little more, but the Father gently nudged his hands toward the steering wheel. He sighed and continued the drive home. 


	6. Chapter six

Amy woke up in her own bed, this time. "Oh… ugh, school starts today, doesn't it?"  
  
"Yep." Tess handed her crutches. "You won't be needing these for much longer, though."  
  
"Thank God." She groaned. "I need coffee."   
  
"Oh, not you too." Tess said, dismayed. Lord, if you send another coffee-holic my way…  
  
"I'm joking, Tess, relax." Amy yawned. "I'll take the car, ok? And I'll be back around six, 'cause I got practice right after school. Just observing. I promise."  
  
"Well, I was thinking, once you get home—if you're not too tired, that is—you have a piano in the living room. Now, I'm a fairly decent player, and I thought maybe you'd like to do some singing. For practice. I used to give voice lessons, you know."  
  
"Really?" Amy was slightly intrigued. "Yeah, maybe I'll take you up on that. But I don't know. Am I really that good? I always thought—"  
  
"Listen, baby. You have a confidence issue. I don't know if anyone's ever told you that."  
  
"People've mentioned it," she mumbled, putting her hearing aids in.  
  
"Well, people are smart. Sometimes they know what's best for you."   
  
"And sometimes they don't. Listen, Tess, I gotta get going. I'll eat breakfast on the way, ok?"  
  
"Well—" Christopher started crying, and Amy smiled at her. "Why don't you get that? I'm going to get dressed, and then I'm out of your hair."  
  
Tess shrugged and started down the hallway. "That girl is going to be the death of me…"  
  
  
  
"Ok, Sara, I'll see you at practice." Amy swung herself into the room and leaned her crutches against the wall. She got out of class five minutes early to give her time to navigate the halls with her crutches, and Sara had helped her carry her books. Then a voice startled her.  
  
"Amy."  
  
"Andrew?" She looked up, startled. "Oh, wow. I guess coach isn't back yet, huh."  
  
"No, sorry. Looks like I have to teach English, too. How's your leg doing?"  
  
"Better. I can walk on it. Sort of. I'm supposed to see the doctor some day soon to get cleared for practice."  
  
"Well, good." The bell rang and the rest of the class poured in from the hallway. Andrew put his glasses on and stood behind the desk. "Ok, class, let's get to it."  
  
  
  
Andrew and Monica didn't see Amy for the next two days. Tess said she was sick on Tuesday, and on Wednesday she had her appointment. Afterwards, she called Sara and asked her to gather the team for a meeting after school on Thursday. Once they were all there, she limped to the front of the room and cleared her throat.  
  
Andrew leaned on the shelf next to Monica, and a few moments later, Tess arrived. Unseen, the angels watched the proceedings. Amy balanced herself on her crutches and began.  
  
"Guys, uh… I just got some news from the doctor." She bit her lip and sighed. "I guess you remember the game where I sprained my ankle and all that, well, I went to get cleared to play again, and he found… something. He, uh—" She worked her jaw, looking up at the ceiling. "He said that all the pains I've been having in my knees these past few years have been due to my having insufficient support from my ankles, and that all the running and stopping and sliding and falling on the basketball court will only make it worse. And that…" Finally her voice closed up. "If I don't want to be in a wheelchair for the rest of my life, I can't play basketball anymore."  
  
"Amy, no." Sara whispered. Amy shook her head.  
  
"It'll be ok. I'll still be at all your games. I'll still sit on the bench with you. I'll just, you know… coach. Or something." The words could hardly make it out anymore.   
  
Andrew looked at his friends. "This can't be right."  
  
"I'm afraid it is, baby." Said Tess. "That's another reason we're here. She's going to have to deal with this somehow. And holding it in is not going to help her." Andrew and Monica sighed, looking at her.  
  
"Does she ever cry?" Monica wondered aloud.   
  
"Not that I've seen," Tess answered. "And that could be part of the problem."  
  
"Then let's solve it." Andrew said flatly, getting up and walking through the group of girls that had gathered around Amy, comforting her as best they could. Amy stared after him. 


	7. Chapter seven

"I'm sorry, this number has been disconnected." Amy slammed the receiver down in frustration. How was she supposed to talk to her parents if she didn't have a way to reach them? Finally, in desperation, she called the police station in the area they were staying and asked them to find her grandmother.  
  
  
  
A knock came at the door. Slowly, George White opened it, then narrowed his eyes. "Yes?"  
  
Andrew, dressed as a police officer, looked up from his clipboard. "Mr. and Mrs. White?"  
  
"Yes, that's us." Tina came up behind her husband. "Is something wrong?"  
  
"I'm not sure. You have a daughter named Amy?"  
  
"Oh my God, what happened?" Tina asked, putting a hand to her mouth. "Is she ok? Is it Christopher?"  
  
"I don't know, ma'am." He said. "Amy called the station in a panic about an hour ago, saying the number you left her was disconnected and that she needed to talk to you. We assumed it was an emergency."  
  
"Yes, we had to leave the hotel we were staying at to come here to my mom's. They were closing down the whole place." George said, looking at his wife. "We haven't even called her this whole time. God, I feel terrible."  
  
"We have our hands full here, dear." Tina said, comforting him. "I'm sure she understands."  
  
"Well, I'd call her." Andrew said. "Good day."  
  
  
  
A few hours later, the wake had begun, and the house was filled with mourners. Tess, Monica, and Andrew stood by the stairs.  
  
"I feel so guilty about this," said Andrew. "Should we have left Amy alone for so long?"  
  
"I'm sure she's fine, baby." Tess said. "She told me to take a day off, that she'd watch Christopher. And besides, we're needed here."  
  
"How will being at her grandfather's wake help?" Asked Monica.  
  
"There are some things that need uncovering." Tess said cryptically. "Things that'll help you understand her better. You'll find out soon enough. Amy needs to learn how to deal with grief. About her knee, about basketball, about everything. And I don't think her parents are going to be available to her anytime soon."  
  
"What?" Andrew stared in disbelief. "They won't go back when they find out?"  
  
"They're not going to find out." Tess said. "If I know Amy, she's going to think they're needed out here and not tell them until they're back."  
  
"She thinks she's Superwoman." Andrew sighed. George and Tina came by, and he started to shrink back so they wouldn't recognize him. It would be a long night.  
  
  
  
"I miss my granddaughter." The old Mrs. White spoke to Monica at length. "She was always such a ray of sunshine in our lives. We used to play cards, just the three of us." Monica smiled and nodded. "Every time she came over, we'd play rummy and she'd sing while we played. Every song she knew, and she knew a lot. Especially Christmas songs. At least Greg got to see her one last Christmas. I wonder why she didn't come with her parents. I don't think they knew about the letters."  
  
"The letters?" Monica asked. Andrew hadn't told her about that.  
  
"Oh, yes. Amy and Greg were very close. They wrote each other constantly since we moved." 


	8. Chapter eight

The next Monday, Amy stepped into Andrew's room after school. All the students were gone, and practice didn't start for another fifteen minutes. "Andrew? Can I talk to you for a minute?"  
  
Andrew looked up, a funny look on his face. He was afraid this was coming. Lord, help me to get this right… "Amy. Have a seat." She sat on one of the desktops and he stood before her, arms crossed. "What's up?"  
  
"You understand about me not being able to play anymore, right?"  
  
"Yeah." He said, pretending he'd heard it from someone.  
  
"You don't sound all that surprised."  
  
"I—uh, I am, but… I just want to fix this."  
  
"You can't." She said dejectedly. "It's just a medical problem and there's really nothing that can be done about it. That's it. I just wanted to make sure you understood. So I'll see you at practice?" She got up.  
  
"Sit." She did. "Amy, you are in pain. I don't see why you're always denying it to everyone."  
  
"What good does spreading it around do?" She asked, raising her eyes to meet his. "People have their own problems. There are people out there who are starving, beaten, people with no parents, people who are blind or deaf… what right do I have to complain? What right do I have to think I suffer?" She looked down at the desk. "I was lucky to have what I did. Now it's gone. I suppose I should be grateful."  
  
"Amy." Andrew knelt in front of her. "It's ok to be upset. It's ok to feel out of control once and a while. And if you ever need someone to talk to, you know I'm always here, right?"  
  
The girl sighed again. "I don't know if I—how I'm going to do this." She admitted. Andrew wanted to leap for joy. "But I'm sure I can handle it myself." And down he came.  
  
"Amy."  
  
"Look, Andrew, I promised I'd go over the reports for the next game with Sara right now, ok? I gotta go."  
  
Amy jumped to her feet, hissing in pain. "Dang, dang, dang… stupid…" Andrew pulled her arm around his neck and wrapped his arm around her waist.  
  
"I'll take you into the gym. There you will sit on the bleachers for the entire practice, and Monica will tell you the many evils of trying to over-do it."  
  
Amy groaned as Andrew slowly steered her down the hallways. Out of the corner of her eye she could see a few students whispering at their precarious positioning, but there could be no help for it. Even she was getting worried.   
  
"How am I supposed to climb the stairs every day?"  
  
"Elevator." He answered, his breath tickling her ear. "They'll give you a key with a pass from the doctor."  
  
"Oh yeah."  
  
Finally they made it to the field house and Andrew helped her up to the second row. "I'll go get Monica, then we'll get practice started."  
  
"Great." Amy let her head fall back, closing her eyes to the tears. God, why? Why me? Andrew heard her silent prayer from his point in the door on his way out, and started to turn back. But it wasn't his place. So he went to Monica's office and retrieved her, then started the rest of the girls through their drills.  
  
  
  
"Hey, baby." Tess said, setting Christopher in his swing. "Feel up to some music?"  
  
"I need it." She said, limping over to the piano.  
  
"You want a chair?"  
  
"No. Isn't it better to stand?"  
  
"Only when you're not injured."  
  
"Ah, I'll be fine." She waved her hand.  
  
"Ok." Tess played a practice scale. "Straighten your torso, breathe deep, and sing from—that's it." The lesson lasted two hours, until Christopher began to cry from hunger and the two musicians realized they'd forgotten to eat. 


	9. Chapter nine

A week or two later, Amy's voice had improved vastly, and Tess had gotten her an audition for a play. Andrew was called to take her in one sunny Saturday morning.   
  
"Why won't you tell me where this thing is?" Amy asked, grinning at her new teacher. Tess smiled.  
  
"You'll see, baby. But it'll be wonderful for you. Being in a play for the public is a truly rewarding experience…"  
  
"Yeah, yeah, yeah." Amy said, elbowing her good-naturedly. "You've said that many times." Outside, Andrew honked the horn. "Oh—better go."  
  
"Good luck, baby." Tess said, hugging her.  
  
But the day quickly turned sour and Andrew pulled into the parking lot of the Theater. He turned in his seat and saw Amy staring at the building with a blank look in her eyes.  
  
"You ready?" He asked.  
  
"No." Amy looked at him, panicked. "Andrew, I can't go in there."  
  
"Why not?" Andrew asked, though he had an idea already.  
  
"I just—" Amy stared ahead at the fountain, the beautiful landscaping that everyone admired. But her thoughts were on the torture she'd endured while working there. Now, however, she wasn't going to be affiliated with the people in the restaurant. Now she was a part of a performance; at least she hoped to be. Maybe it would be all right… "No. It'll be ok. Let's go."  
  
  
  
A day or two later, a letter from the Theater came in the mail. Tess forced herself not to open it, to just put it on Amy's desk until she was home from school. But as soon as she was through the door, Tess lost it.  
  
"You got a reply, baby!" She said, grinning. "It's on your desk."  
  
"What?" Amy was no longer on crutches, but she did have to wrap her knee with an Ace bandage every day and wear ankle braces. Nonetheless, she tried to run down the hall but only succeeded in a slight jog. Grabbing her letter opener, she ripped open the envelope.  
  
"Dear Miss White, blah blah blah, we—oh my God." She choked, putting a hand to her mouth.  
  
"What? What?" Tess could barely contain herself, bouncing Christopher up and down on her hip.  
  
"You know how you put me down for Louisa because I didn't have any experience in this before?" She asked, referring to one of the characters in the Sound of Music. "Well, they said that they didn't find me right for that part."  
  
"Oh, baby."  
  
"But, they want me to be Liesel! I'm gonna have a solo!"  
  
Tess squealed, reaching out to hug her. "That's wonderful!"  
  
"The rehearsal schedule is pretty much every day, but seeing as I can't play basketball anymore, that shouldn't be a problem. Uh—have my parents called?"  
  
Tess frowned. "No…"  
  
"Ah, I'm sure they're busy. I'll see them when they get back."  
  
  
  
"They still haven't called." Andrew said, a slight wave of anger riding under his voice.  
  
"Now, baby, take it easy. They are good parents. But right now they've got a crisis to handle, you know that."  
  
"Their daughter could be in trouble." Andrew said. "I told them that—I was a police officer, and they didn't take it seriously!"  
  
"Now you listen to me, angel boy, and you listen good." Tess said, poking a finger into his chest. "Amy is going to be fine. You just keep working on that, and Monica and I will help wherever we can. She doesn't need her parents now, she needs you. You are the strong male role model that she always needed. It used to be her grandfather. Now he's gone, so the responsibility slides on over to you."  
  
"Why not her father?"   
  
"He's a professor. A real book type. She never really looked to him for support of any kind, much less her problems. Certainly not basketball. Trust me on this one; she needs you."  
  
  
  
About a week before the production opened, Amy asked Tess, Monica, and Andrew into the living room after their daily workout session. They sat on the couch and watched as she selected a CD and put it in the player.   
  
"Um, Andrew, you remember what we practiced?" Tess and Monica turned and stared at him. He laughed, getting up.   
  
"I didn't think I'd have to make a fool out of myself in front of these two…"  
  
A few days before, Amy had passed Andrew's temporary office near the locker room in the field house and heard something that made her turn around and go back. Standing at the door and listening, she heard a voice singing an old hymn softly but accurately. Amy opened the door and raised an eyebrow at her coach, grinning at him and joining in. Andrew had been shocked at the sudden audience, but in the end, they'd formed a beautiful duet…  
  
"Hey, I'm not doing this alone." Amy said, breaking his reverie. He walked over to her, taking the sheet music she held out and whispering in her ear.  
  
"You don't do anything alone."  
  
Amy stared at him as the music began. What did that mean? But then Andrew began to sing the part of Rolf, nudging her to pay attention, and the room was filled with the sound of music. 


	10. Chapter ten

Amy walked past the kitchen with baited breath on her way to the exit to leave after rehearsal the next day. Please, don't let anyone come out, don't let anyone see me… But it didn't work.  
  
"Hey, look, it's the girl who quit!" A few of the boys noticed her and came out into the hallway. "How's it going, Amy?"  
  
"Fine." She answered shortly, and tried to leave.  
  
"Hey, what's your hurry?" One of them asked. "Don't you want to stay and catch up? Or are you too good for us now? You always were, weren't you? Making us look bad, sucking up to the boss…"  
  
"I never did any of that." She argued weakly. But they wouldn't hear it.  
  
"Are you kidding? Always trying to do things better than us… you know, until you came along, work was fun. No one thought to see if we could do a better job. Now we actually have to work. Like, work!"  
  
"Well, I'm sorry for raising the bar." Amy said sarcastically. "Just my nature."  
  
"Damn your nature…" the boy started again, but she turned and started away. "Hey!"  
  
"Amy!" She heard a familiar voice and spun around, seeing Andrew coming from the auditorium. "You finish early?"  
  
"Yeah." Her reply was relieved. "What are you doing here?"   
  
"Tess sent me to give you a ride."  
  
"Oh. I was just gonna walk…"  
  
"Amy, you've been walking?" Andrew sounded upset. She joined him on the way to the car as the boys retreated back to the kitchen. "That's not good for your knees. You should be off your feet as much as possible. Give them a chance to get better."  
  
"Yeah." She looked back at the empty hall, then followed him out. "Whatever."  
  
"Oh. I left something in the theater. Why don't you wait in the car?" He tossed her the keys.  
  
"Ok."   
  
As soon as she was gone, Andrew went to the kitchen and immediately saw the boys who'd been giving Amy a hard time.  
  
"Hey." They looked up, nervous. "I don't care what you think of her. She does not deserve that kind of treatment. Amy White is one of the best people I know, and I will not stand by and listen to this again." He started out the door and then turned back. "I'll be watching you."  
  
  
But it wasn't over. Day after next, Amy was walking home to test her strength, and the guys happened to get off work at that same time.   
  
"Oh look, it's Amy!" One of them said loudly. "And her boyfriend is nowhere to be found."  
  
"Boyfriend." She snorted, not stopping.  
  
"Hey, I'm talking to you, retard, or can't you hear me?" Amy quickened her pace, too proud (and afraid she couldn't run) to do anything else. "Would you look at this? She's walking away from me. Maybe she can't hear us." They ran up straight behind her, and he started to yell in her ear. "Can you hear this? Can you hear me now?" Amy blinked back tears and went on, ignoring them. She was almost home.   
  
Andrew, please… She thought, not thinking it strange to ask for him. God, please send Andrew to help me. The boys were still following, and growing angry. Finally, the leader snapped.  
  
"Hey!" He grabbed her arm, and was suddenly knocked back. He looked up, startled, into Andrew's calm, cold eyes.  
  
"I thought I made myself clear." He said evenly.  
  
The boys glared at him, but beat a hasty exit. Andrew touched Amy's arm softly. "Are you ok?"  
  
"I'm fine. Morons." She said, but her voice broke.  
  
"Amy…" He reached out, but she shrugged him away. "I have homework to do, and it's getting late. Are you coming?"  
  
Father, thank you for sending me to help her. But a little more advice would be useful… Andrew prayed silently as he walked back to Amy's house. I'm in way over my head here. 


	11. Chapter eleven

"Happy birthday, Trina!" Andrew heard the noise from the hallway as he walked into the field house the next day. Amy had been going to whatever practices she could, but today there had been an extra practice because of the rapidly approaching opening night. When he entered the gym, he saw the whole team surrounding Trina, talking and laughing. Struck by a sudden inspiration, he pulled one of the girls aside.  
  
"Tracy, when's Amy's birthday?"  
  
She frowned. "I, uh… actually, I don't know. Maybe Sara knows… Sara!" She called her over. "When's Amy's birthday."  
  
"Uh—oh, geez. I completely forgot." She smacked her forehead. "She's my best friend, and I forgot. You know the game where she hurt herself? That was her birthday."  
  
  
  
The next day, as Amy was leaving the Theater, the director caught up with her and gave her a note. "Tall guy, blond, dropped this off for you. He said to go straight there after rehearsal and to take the car, not walk."  
  
Amy rolled her eyes. "Of course he did. Thanks." She unfolded the paper and saw the words "Sunset Park".   
  
When she got there, she was startled to see Tess, Monica, and Andrew sitting around a picnic table. Christopher was lying in a baby seat on the bench.  
  
"What is this?" Amy asked, putting her bag down.   
  
"This is a belated birthday party." Tess said. "As well as a good luck party for the opening tomorrow night."  
  
"Why didn't you tell us when it was your birthday?" Andrew asked, making room for her to sit.  
  
"Uh… I didn't think it mattered." She said. "My parents are the only ones who've ever remembered."  
  
"Well, now it'll be your parents and us." Monica said, smiling at her. "Happy birthday, Amy."  
  
"Thanks." She smiled back, relaxing. Why couldn't all her friends be like this?  
  
  
  
After they ate the cake, Tess took Christopher back to take a nap. After waving them off, Amy walked slowly over to the swings in the playground nearby. Andrew looked up from where he and Monica were cleaning up.   
  
"Uh, Monica, I'll be right back, ok?" She nodded, and he started over to the park, coming up behind Amy. "Mind if I sit down?"  
  
"Huh? No, go ahead." She pushed off the ground, setting the swing in a gentle motion.  
  
"Are you ok?"  
  
"You ask me that a lot." She said, not looking at him. "I'm fine."  
  
"I ask you that a lot because I care. And I don't think you are fine."  
  
"I'm a little nervous about opening tomorrow." She admitted, startled at herself for telling him, but going on. "I know it'll go fine; we've been working on it so hard, and nothing's gone wrong yet, but I don't know…"  
  
"Well, that's normal."  
  
"I suppose." She kicked a few times, soaring above Andrew's head, then slowly rocked back to earth. "Swinging is highly underrated. I wonder what it feels like to fly."  
  
"I don't know." Andrew answered slowly, unsure of what to say. "But—"  
  
"Do you believe in angels?" She asked suddenly, stopping short and staring at him. Please say yes, Andrew, please…  
  
"Yes, I do." He said, smiling at her. "Without a doubt."   
  
"Huh." She looked off into the distance. "You know, I didn't go to church this weekend. Actually, I haven't gone since my parents left. I figured I could talk to God just as well on my own, right? But I'm starting to miss it."  
  
"Well, you don't need church to worship God. I mean, it's wonderful that you go, but in between, you can talk to Him anytime. You know that, right?"  
  
"I guess. I guess—I talk to Him more than I thought. Just little things in the middle of the day, out of nowhere, I'll tell Him something or ask Him something or pray for something…"  
  
"And that's all it takes. Whenever you need help. There's no reason you can't go to someone you trust, but if you don't think you want to yet, He's open 24 hours a day. Ok?" He put a hand on her shoulder, smiling gently at her. "I'm proud of you Amy. I don't think I've said that yet. But I am. And God is too."  
  
"You think so?" She couldn't meet his gaze. Andrew took that as his cue to go.   
  
"I know so. I'm gonna go help Monica clean up." He got up.  
  
"You need some help?"  
  
"No. Stay there. Talk." He raised one eyebrow to the sky, grinning at her. She managed a weak smile in return, and then her eyes became glazed over, unfocused, as if she were deep in thought.  
  
  
  
"Andrew?" Monica approached him as he returned. "Are you all right?"  
  
He looked up. "Yeah. Why?"  
  
She looked over at the girl on the swings, looked back at her friend, and smiled gently. "I'm worried about you. I think you're getting too attached to Amy. You're slipping up; you forgot to tell us about Amy's closeness to her grandfather, something rather important to what we're doing here. You know we're only going to be here for a while, and then you're going to have to say goodbye. Will you be able to do that?"  
  
"I'll be careful." He promised, seeing the care in her eyes.   
  
"Ok." She squeezed his hand. "I don't want you to get hurt."  
  
Andrew raised an eyebrow at her serious tone, and pulled her into a hug, stroking her hair. "Don't worry about me, Monica. I'll be fine."  
  
"Good." She eased out of his embrace and started toward the car. Andrew stared after her for a moment, a funny feeling overwhelming him. What was this? 


	12. Chapter twelve

Andrew headed out to the car after practice a few days later, only to see a familiar figure sitting nearby. He raised an eyebrow and strode over, sitting next to him.  
  
"Phil. What are you doing here? Where are you supposed to be?"  
  
"Well, now, I'm pretty sure I'm supposed to be here…" he said, looking around. "Yes, yes, I'm supposed to be here. Of course, I was Kentucky… I think… but then Adam found me and directed me here… or near here, because then Rafael showed up and said I was on the wrong side of town. But I'm supposed to be… here. Here." He finished. "I think."  
  
Andrew heard the Father encouraging him to listen to the directionally challenged angel, so he made himself comfortable. "What were you told to come here for, Phil?"  
  
"I'm supposed to talk to you about, uh… Monica! Monica. Oh…" Suddenly his face cleared. "Monica. Andrew, you, uh… you've noticed some things changing, haven't you? Not much, just enough to set you on edge."  
  
He furrowed his brow. "Yeah. Why?"  
  
"Do you love her?"  
  
"Of course. She's one of my best friends."  
  
"You are not listening to me. Do you love her?"  
  
Andrew stared at his friend. "Do I—"  
  
"Love her?"   
  
"I—I don't know what—"  
  
"Listen, Andrew, I may not be good with North, South, East, and West, but I do know that if you follow your heart, you can't go wrong. Embrace this. Welcome it. It's a gift, and you both deserve it. In fact—"  
  
"Hi." Amy approached from the school. "Andrew. Nice hat."  
  
"Hey, Amy. This is Phil, he's a friend of mine."  
  
"Oh. Hi." Amy shook his hand.  
  
"Hi, Amy. I'm just lending Andrew some expertise here, on matters of the heart."  
  
"Ah…" Amy raised an eyebrow. "Monica, yes?"  
  
Phil looked at Andrew, grinning victoriously. "I rest my case. But now I have to be in Nebraska. Or was it Idaho…" He mumbled, wandering off.  
  
Amy watched him, puzzled. "Is he gonna be ok?" Andrew watched as two other angels appeared out of nowhere and turned Phil around, walking him the other way. But before he could comment, Amy did. "Oh. Ok." Andrew spun and stared at her. "What?"  
  
She had seen them? 


	13. Chapter thirteen

"I know, Tess, but I'm sure she saw them." Andrew sat heavily on the couch, watching Amy push Christopher in the baby swing outside. "I just—there's something about her. Maybe she can see angels."  
  
"Why do you think?" Monica asked their supervisor.  
  
"Sometimes the Father gives humans special gifts. Amy has been truly blessed."  
  
"I wonder if she can see that." Monica mused.  
  
"Amazingly, she can, baby." Tess said. "She knows that she has poor hearing, and she knows that there is pain ahead for her in giving up basketball completely, and she doesn't feel as much love from her parents as she could, but she knows she has her music, and her little brother, and her friends. She has singing. She has a wonderful home and school. And she has faith. That's all she needs."  
  
Andrew looked out the window, watching her play with her brother. "That's incredible."  
  
Monica walked over, putting a hand on his arm. "It's very good. I wish all humans were like Amy."  
  
"With the exception of her stubbornness." Tess groused.  
  
"I think Tess has finally met her match." Andrew said, looking down at Monica. She laughed softly and leaned on his arm as they continued to watch their assignment outside.   
  
  
  
A few days later, when it was late Saturday night at Amy's house and mid-morning Sunday in Florida, the angels went to the church that Amy's parents and grandmother now frequented every weekend. Monica leaned back against the wall, watching as Amy's parents spoke to the people around them, watching as friends came up to sit with her grandmother, watching as the church slowly emptied until only the old woman was sitting in the pew, her children waiting outside at the car.  
  
Without knowing it, Monica had stepped forward until she could see Mrs. White's face. Then she felt Andrew come up behind her, his comforting warmth bringing her back to earth. They had a job to do here. Amy's parents had to see reason before they alienated their daughter for good. After a few minutes, Tess moved away and Andrew put a hand on Monica's shoulder.  
  
"Hey. You ok? You looked kind of out of it for a while, there."  
  
Monica smiled and looked back at him, reaching up over her right shoulder to cover the hand she knew was coming to rest there with her own. She knew Andrew better than she knew herself sometimes. What she didn't know was that even now, Andrew's mind was racing, and all of a sudden the simple touch that he had administered thousands of times before seemed like so much more. But he pushed the thought back into the far reaches of his brain. Not… now.  
  
"Beth?" Tess was saying to the woman as Monica and Andrew followed her. Amy's grandmother looked up in astonishment at her new company.  
  
"Well, I thought I knew everyone in this church. Are you visiting?"  
  
"Sort of." Tess said. "We're friends of your granddaughter's."  
  
"You know Amy?" Beth stood up. "Oh, I miss her. I was so disappointed that she couldn't come down here."  
  
"We're concerned that her parents haven't been in contact with Amy lately." Tess continued. Monica and Andrew just listened while their superior handled matters.  
  
"Oh, don't think I haven't been on their backs about that. They keep forgetting and putting it off. Nothing's wrong, is it?"  
  
"Actually—"  
  
"No, nothing is wrong." Tess interrupted. Andrew stopped, stunned, and looked at Monica. She looked as confused as he was. "Amy was just wondering if they'd be home soon."  
  
"I'm afraid I've been monopolizing them, yes." Beth admitted. "But I never see them anymore, and I'm still a bit of a mess… they've been such a help."  
  
"I can understand that." Monica said, stepping forward. "But perhaps you should talk to them, get them to understand that they need to at least speak with their daughter. Just to catch up."  
  
"I will do that." Beth said, getting up. "And it was a pleasure meeting you—all of you—but I really must be going. Tina and George are waiting outside." The angels stepped aside and let her pass. After she left, Andrew sighed.  
  
"Tess…"  
  
"Not a word, Angel Boy. That's as much as we can do. Let's go back. I have a feeling tomorrow is going to be big." 


	14. Chapter fourteen

And it was. Sunday morning, Amy woke up, left a note on the table for Tess, threw a bag in her car, and went to church. It was the first time she'd gone in weeks, and it felt like going home. People who had seen her in the play offered their congratulations and condolences and she handled it with as much humility as she could before retreating to a pew in the back.   
  
By the end of the mass, she was ready to sprint out of the building to avoid any more people wanting to stop and talk. She pulled on her gloves and wrapped her jacket closer around her, scowling up at the sky, which had darkened to make it seem like it were early evening rather than mid-day. The clouds looked as if it were going to snow some more. It was as if God was trying to thwart her plans, but she shook her head resolutely and got in the car, driving to the park.  
  
After changing into more comfortable clothes in the public bathroom, Amy took her old basketball out of the trunk and dribbled it a few times. She walked over to the court, covered with puddles from the recent snow, but with a chain-link net and hoop that was actually at the correct height. This had been her favorite court before… well, now it was just Before. She shook her head. Never mind.   
  
Five minutes later, Amy took a shot from the top of the key and was abundantly disgusted when the wind blew hard enough to carry the ball behind her, where she thought she heard it hit someone's hands. And there was no mistaking that voice.  
  
"Amy."  
  
She turned. "Andrew. Want to play horse?"*   
  
"Amy… what are you doing?" Andrew put the ball down and walked toward her.  
  
"What's it look like?" She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him, trying not to show that she could hardly stand on her right ankle.  
  
"It looks like you've got a death wish. You're going to freeze in your own sweat if you stay out here."  
  
"Can I have my ball back?" Amy held out her hand.  
  
"No. Amy, you have to go home. You're hurt."  
  
"I am not! Andrew, please…"  
  
"No. No, no, no. Come on."   
  
"Haven't you ever loved someone so much that you would do anything?" She asked suddenly, and he stopped in his tracks. Where in the name of heaven had that come from?  
  
"Yes." He said, thinking of a certain Irish angel back at home with Tess and Christopher. "But what—"  
  
"That is how I feel about basketball. I can't handle not being able to play! It's my life! I mean, acting's all well and good, and singing is amazing, and I know I've been given gifts for all that stuff, but basketball has been there for me since forever." Her voice started to crack, but she swallowed and forged on. "It was like an equalizer. I was an outsider everywhere except on the basketball court. I could shine. I felt like I belonged there, and now… you realize I have no friends now? All my old friends were just mutual acquaintances that shared a sport, and now that we don't have that in common, we have nothing to talk about. But none of that is even the most important thing, it's just the feeling I get… you're going to take that away from me?" He shook his head slightly. Was it time? But Amy took that as a 'no'. "Andrew, please…"  
  
"Amy, listen to me. This is for your own good, trust me."  
  
"Yeah, well, who are you to decide what's best for me?"  
  
"I'm an angel." Amy looked like she was about to go off again, but she stopped short and stared as Andrew began to shine into the darkness. There were no streetlights lit up anywhere.  
  
"What's going on?" She asked shakily. The wind didn't blow as cold as it had, and he seemed to be giving off some kind of warmth that she was drawn to by some innate instinct. "Did you just say—"  
  
"I'm an angel, Amy. Sent by God to help you through this difficult time. And it will be a difficult time; you're going to have to learn to give up something you love. But God will always be there for you, if you'll just ask Him. And Amy, I am willing to do whatever I can to help you. Anything. Just ask."  
  
Amy sniffed, blinking back tears. "You're an angel, huh?"  
  
Andrew smiled softly and nodded. "Yeah."  
  
"Um—can I—could—" a tear raced down her face. Andrew opened his arms.  
  
"Come here." Amy bit her lip, swallowed hard, and opened her mouth as if there was something she wanted to say. Then she walked into his embrace and wrapped her arms around to his back. Andrew stroked her hair as she buried her face in his chest and the real tears; the tears for her grandfather and her grandmother and herself finally came. 


	15. Chapter fifteen

Monica looked at Andrew from her seat in the car. Tess had suggested that they take Amy to the museum for the day, and try to take her mind off of the things that were bothering her. She sighed, thinking about how different he'd been acting. And then there was that conversation she'd had with Amy last week…  
  
"Monica, how long have you known Andrew?"  
  
"A long time. Long time."  
  
"Have you ever, uh…" Amy elbowed her playfully.  
  
"Amy, Amy, Andrew and I have been friends for a long time."  
  
"I know, but—don't you think he's cute?"  
  
"He has a beautiful heart." She's felt safe enough there.  
  
"And the outside's not bad either." Amy had said slyly.  
  
"Amy, what brought this on?"  
  
"Haven't you seen the way he's been looking at you?"  
  
"No…"  
  
"Monica, dear, I'm going to have to help you, here…"  
  
Andrew looked back. "Monica? You coming?"  
  
"Yes. Yes, I'm coming." She hurried to catch up, and just as she was about to stop, Andrew reached out and grabbed her hand. She looked up at him, and he looked as startled as she did. But he simply smiled at her, squeezed her fingers with his, and they kept walking, hand in hand.  
  
Amy followed, grinning like mad.  
  
  
  
"Andrew, Andrew, Andrew…" Amy said, smiling at him. It was midway through the day, and she had asked if they could sit down and give her knees a rest. "You are positively glowing." He looked down, startled. "Oh—no, no." She giggled. "Not that way. I mean, you were looking at Monica. You should've seen the look on your face."  
  
Andrew got up, running a hand through his hair. He looked upset. "Amy…"  
  
"Oh my God, you're an angel." She slumped back against the bench. "Andrew…"  
  
"Monica is an angel too." He said. "So is Tess. I should've told you before. I don't know why my mind is so… clouded now."  
  
"She feels the same way about you." Amy said, getting up and facing him. Monica was still fifteen feet away, looking bemusedly at a picture of an angel with mile-long wings and a golden halo. "Can't you—"  
  
"I don't know what I'm supposed to do." Andrew folded his hands in a gesture of submission. "But I know that if this is what God intends for us, then it's going to be all right. If not… we're angels. We do what He says. He doesn't tell us His plan until the right time."  
  
Amy nodded. "You love her, don't you?"  
  
Andrew smiled, eyes tearing slightly. "Yeah. Yes, I do."  
  
"Maybe I should leave you here." Amy said, motioning to the bench. "Maybe Monica and I should go to the little angels' room. Maybe I could get locked in a stall for a half hour. Maybe you and God should have a little chat."  
  
Andrew smiled. "I think that's a good idea."  
  
"Good." Amy touched his arm and walked away. Soon she was leading Monica to the farthest restroom from where they were, and Andrew was alone.  
  
"Father…" He sighed. 'Father, I don't know what I'm supposed to do now. You know I always try to do Your will, but I'm lost on this one. Is there precedent for this? Are we supposed to make this the precedent? I don't want to fail you, but I don't know what to do…'  
  
"You're doing it." Phil flopped down next to him. "Andrew, my boy, I have been to not one—not two—not three, but four museums in this wonderful city, and not one of them was the right one. So I asked the Father, I said 'Heavenly Father, I am lost. Again. So if You would be so kind as to point me in the right direction, I would be vastly appreciative.' And I followed my heart here. And now I am going to repeat a few pieces of advice that I have given you before."  
  
"Follow my heart." Andrew said quietly, feeling surer than ever that God was giving him and Monica special permission to do something that had never been done before.  
  
"Good man! Ah, now, your female friends are returning, I see, so I think I'll just vanish into the crowd or something… perhaps seek out a souvenir store…" He walked off in the general direction of the exit.  
  
"Phil." Andrew took the man's arm and turned him around, pointing him in the right direction.  
  
"Andrew?" Monica came up. "What was Phil doing here?"  
  
Amy looked at Andrew closely and almost squealed. "Um—hey, can we go home now, guys? I just remembered—I have—homework… and, uh… I should—do it. Today. Now."  
  
Monica looked at Andrew. "Ok…"  
  
"All right." Andrew walked with Monica back to the car, whispering in her ear. "When we get back, though, you and I have to talk." 


	16. Chapter sixteen

But the talk was derailed. Christopher was not feeling well, and Tess was not having fun. Monica hurried to take care of Chris, and Andrew got Tess to take a break. Amy disappeared into the basement and picked up the phone.  
  
"Hello?" George picked up in Florida.   
  
"Dad?"  
  
"Amy? Tina, it's Amy!"  
  
"Is everything ok?" Tina asked, hurrying in.  
  
"Is everything ok, Amy?"  
  
"Yeah—yeah, everything's fine. Um, when are you coming home?"  
  
"Well, we were going to stay here for a while longer, make sure grandma's ok…"  
  
"Dad, you've been there forever." Amy said, growing upset. "When are you coming home?"  
  
George looked at Tina and sighed. "She said we have to come home."  
  
"You do." Beth walked in. "George, Tina, you've been wonderful. But I'm fine. Your kids need you. I think you'd better call the airlines."  
  
"You're right." George said, looking at the floor. "Amy? Your mother and I are going to book a flight as soon as we can, ok? We'll see you at home."  
  
"Ok, great. Bye." Amy hung up and looked outside. It was getting dark. "Call me Cupid…"  
  
"Andrew?" Monica walked out of Christopher's room looking for him. "He's asleep…" She pulled the robe she'd put on earlier close around her, looking around. "Andrew?"  
  
"He's outside." Amy said, trying to hide a grin. "In the front yard."  
  
"Oh. Thank you."  
  
Monica stood on the porch, looking out at the yard. The porch light was burned out, and there was just the barest glow from a distant streetlight to show her friend standing at the railing.  
  
"Andrew?" The angel spun around, startled. She smiled apologetically. "You said earlier we had to talk."  
  
"I did." He said, leaning against the railing. "Come here." Monica walked slowly over, leaning back next to him while Andrew gathered his thoughts. "Monica, you know I love you." She nodded, leaning against him. "And we've always been friends. Very—good friends. But lately… lately I've been feeling different—around you. Have you noticed?"  
  
"Yes." She answered simply.  
  
"Well, what do you think it is?"  
  
"I know what Amy thinks it is." Monica said doubtfully. "And it's an interesting idea, but… is it even possible?"  
  
"Would you want it to be?" Andrew's voice lowered, and he almost couldn't look at her.  
  
"I'm not sure. I think I would." She answered slowly. Andrew turned to look at her, startled. Was this really going to happen? Slowly he turned so they were facing each other and reached up to touch her chin, forcing her gaze to his eyes.   
  
"I know I would." He said quietly. "This is a gift we've been given, and I'm sure enough of my feelings to know that this is not a mistake. God doesn't make mistakes. And I don't want to make a mistake in passing this up. I love you." He saw Monica's eyes tear up, and then it was decided. "We're going to try, aren't we?"  
  
"I believe so." She said, barely able to get the words out. And Andrew leaned down and gently kissed her, their lips touching for only a few seconds before they stopped. Monica sighed and looked at him. "We have."  
  
"I think this was a good idea." Said Andrew.  
  
"I think so too." Said Monica.  
  
"I think it's time to come in before I turn the sprinklers on!" Amy said from a nearby open window, and Monica spun, startled. Andrew's throaty laugh from behind her made her spin back.   
  
"How long has she been there?" Monica demanded, not really angry, and Andrew kissed her softly once more before taking her hand and leading her in.  
  
"A while. It's ok. We're ok."  
  
And for the moment, they were. 


	17. Chapter seventeen

Amy woke the next morning with a smile on her face. Her parents had called to say that they were coming in on flight 251 at about 2:30 in the afternoon, and so would be home that night. She had volunteered to help Tess clean the house up, and this was one time she didn't mind doing it. At first she'd thought she wouldn't get to, but then there was a blizzard overnight and school was cancelled the next morning.  
  
"Chris has a doctor's appointment in about a half hour," Amy said, putting down her dust rag. "I'd better get him ready."  
  
"He is ready," Andrew said, coming in. "But I don't want you driving, Amy. There's too much snow on the ground. I'll take him, don't worry about it."  
  
"Ok, thanks Andrew. If there's one thing I hate, it's driving in the snow."  
  
"I know." He smiled and left, and Amy and Tess continued their work. Monica was mysteriously absent…  
  
  
  
"Dan, I know it hurts, but you have to try to stay conscious." The angel pleaded with the pilot. A passenger had been carrying a loaded revolver in his carry-on and it had accidentally gone off when the bag was dropped, shooting the pilot in the shoulder. Monica tried to keep him awake. "Dan, you need to land this plane."  
  
"The controls are shot," he gasped. "I can—try…"  
  
"You must. Do what you've been trained to do."  
  
"There's a field, I think…" He said, attempting to steer the plane in the right direction. A stewardess was instructing the passengers to fasten their seat belts and assume a protective position, and then a horrendous noise was heard as the plane crashed through the tops of a cluster of trees and came to a violent stop in the middle of nowhere.   
  
"Everybody, listen up!" Monica said, trying to get the passengers to quiet down. "We need to exit the plane. Get your bags and let's go."   
  
Panic was starting to set it.  
  
"Is it going to explode?"  
  
"Are we going to die?"  
  
"What happened?"  
  
"Where's the captain?"  
  
"Where are we?"  
  
"Ladies and gentlemen!" The captain was leaning against the door, holding on with his last bit of strength. "This is Monica. She's an angel from God. Listen to her." Then he sagged to the ground. George White jumped up.  
  
"Ok, let's get a single file line going out that exit, and that exit, ladies and children first, come on. You two, help him, get him on the ground and put pressure on that wound."  
  
Helpless to argue with a voice of reason, the passengers managed to get themselves outside, where they were faced with the biting winter wind.  
  
"What is that?" A young girl pointed to the tail end of the plane.  
  
"Uh-oh. Back up. Everyone, back up!" As the people retreated as fast as they could, the stray flame ignited the gas tanks and the plane was consumed in a massive fireball.  
  
"Well." Said one man. "At least we'll be warm now."  
  
"Does anyone have a cell phone?"   
  
"Good luck getting it to work, look where we are!"  
  
"It's worth a try, isn't it?"  
  
"Who has food? Put all the food together, we'll ration things out!"  
  
"Make sure everyone has warm clothes, share what you've got!"  
  
Monica smiled gently from the sidelines. It didn't seem that she was needed here now. She had just enough time to go check in with Andrew, Tess, and Amy, and then she had better come back.  
  
  
  
Andrew was standing at the fence outside the airport. The plane wasn't there. And he didn't know where it was. Or where Monica was. The winter wind blew his hair off his scalp, sending shivers down his spine. Something was wrong.  
  
"Andrew?" Monica appeared next to him. "Are you looking for Amy's parents?"  
  
"Yeah, actually. What happened?"  
  
"The plane went down about an hour ago." She said gently. "No one died, but it will be awhile before they are rescued, I believe. It is possible that some of them won't survive. There's nothing around, no way to get help…"  
  
"Well—can't we do something?" Andrew asked.  
  
"No, baby, we can't." Tess appeared then. "God doesn't want us to. He has a plan for those people, and if we rush a rescue team up there, His plan will not be carried out."  
  
"But Amy…" Monica started, and Tess cut her off.  
  
"Amy will see on the news that her parents' plane has crashed. Andrew, you'd better be there when she does. She'll need you. Monica, you'll have to stick with the passengers. But do not tell anyone what's going on. Is that understood?"  
  
"Yes, ma'am." Monica said meekly, looking at Andrew. Then she disappeared.  
  
"Can I at least tell Amy that her parents are alive?" Andrew asked.  
  
"Yes, you can. But neither you nor I know if they will still be alive by the time there's a rescue. Now, the plane was being tracked by radar, but the bullet that hit the captain also destroyed some of the instruments, and one of them was the homing beacon. It will be a few days before they are found. So you better go take care of Amy now."  
  
"Ok." Andrew took one last look at the empty runway and started toward the car. What next? 


	18. Chapter eighteen

Amy looked up, startled, as the show she'd been watching switched off and a news brief screen appeared. "This had better not be another over-zealous weatherman saying we're gonna get another centimeter of snow." She said crankily to Andrew. Then she sighed. "I'm sorry. I'm just on edge. I wonder when my parents are going to get home."  
  
"I'm sure it'll be soon." Andrew said, trying to think of something else to say. But then it was all in the open.  
  
"A passenger plane flying out of Florida has disappeared…" Was all Amy heard, and then she turned off the closed captioning to see the scrolling words at the bottom.   
  
"Flight 251? Andrew, tell me my parents weren't on Flight 251." She begged, looking at him. He looked back at her and shook his head. "Andrew…" She gasped, looking back at the television. "Are they dead? Would you know?"  
  
"They aren't dead, Amy."  
  
"Well, go get them! What are you doing here?"  
  
"Amy, I can't do that."  
  
"You're an angel! Zap yourself over and pick them up!"  
  
"I can't! Listen to me. There is nothing I'd love more than to be able to go and save all those people, but that isn't what I'm supposed to do."  
  
"Why the hell not?"   
  
"Amy!" Andrew was stunned at her language. "Look, Amy, I was allowed to tell you that they're alive, but I don't know how long it's going to be until someone finds the wreck. By then… I really don't know what's going to happen."  
  
"They could die?"  
  
Andrew nodded slowly. "It is a possibility."  
  
"Oh my God. Oh my God, it's my fault! It's my fault, I made them get on that plane!"   
  
"No, Amy, stop it!" Andrew grabbed her arm as she started to run away. "Amy, listen to me. It is not your fault."  
  
"Yes it is…"  
  
"No it's not." Monica appeared then, glowing brilliantly.   
  
"Ok, I get it, you're an angel, must you blind me?" Amy snapped, falling back onto the couch.   
  
"Amy, if your parents hadn't been on that plane, the number of deaths might have been incredible. Your father took charge and helped everyone get out before it exploded."  
  
"Exploded?" She croaked.  
  
"Yes. Your parents have been elected as temporary leaders of the site until help comes. You should be very proud of them."  
  
Amy looked from one angel to the other. "But you can't help them." Both Andrew and Monica remained silent. "Fine. I'll be downstairs."  
  
Andrew sighed and patted the couch next to him, inviting Monica to sit for a minute before she had to go back.   
  
"Oh, Andrew, I don't know what to do. This assignment has been so long, I can't imagine failure now. But what if something goes wrong?"  
  
Andrew pulled out his pocket watch. "This was given to me by one of my first assignments. He taught me so much, Monica, that I never would've learned on my own. He told me it represented truth, protection, and love." He looked up at her, reaching up with one hand to brush her hair away from her face. "I can't go with you for this part of this assignment. So I want you to take this with you. Maybe it'll help you remember that it'll be all right."  
  
Monica stared as he pressed the watch into her hand. "Andrew, you're never without this watch."  
  
"I know. But it'll be safe with you. I trust you." He pulled her close and kissed her once, and she smiled and faded away, going back to the crash site. And Andrew heard the beginning of another crash site coming from the basement.  
  
  
  
  
  
***Well, I don't know if that's actually where Andrew got his watch from, but he always has it, so I figure why not give it a story of its own? You wouldn't happen to know where it DID come from, wouldja? 


	19. Chapter nineteen

"Amy? What happened?" The girl was standing, pool cue in hand, five feet away from a shattered mirror. A cue ball was sitting in the middle of the shards. "Amy? You ok?"  
  
"I broke the mirror."  
  
"I see that."  
  
"I didn't mean to. The ball bounced off…"  
  
"You must have really hit it."  
  
"Hard as I could." She put the cue down. "I'm mad."  
  
"I can see that."  
  
"Can you blame me?"  
  
"Can't say as I do."  
  
"Help me clean it up?"  
  
"Of course." He knelt next to her as she began to carefully put the pieces into a garbage can. "Is this how you deal with things when you're angry?"  
  
"Not usually." She said, not looking at him. "Usually I just lift or something, let off some steam…" Amy stopped. "Usually I go out and play basketball."  
  
"I'm sorry." He touched her arm. "You know I'm here, right?"  
  
"Yeah." She looked at him. "I just need to handle this my way."  
  
"I understand. Just as long as it doesn't involve any sharp objects, ok?"  
  
Amy laughed. "Deal."  
  
  
  
"Food is getting scarce." Monica said to Tess and Andrew, who had joined her, unseen to anyone else. "And there are about eight people getting sick from the cold. Will they be found soon?"  
  
"I don't know, baby." Tess said. "But we just wanted to make sure you had everything under control."  
  
"I do. But couldn't one of you stay here with me?"  
  
"No. I'm sorry, but we need to be with Amy and Christopher." Tess said. "And we better get going now."  
  
Andrew looked once more at Monica, hating himself for leaving. But as if she'd heard his thoughts, she looked up and met his gaze, smiling gently. "Go."  
  
Tess looked at them, puzzled. What was this? Andrew never had a problem doing his job before. And Monica had never had that look in her eyes before that she'd seen. And then the Father provided her with the answer. Tess sighed. Oh, no…  
  
  
  
Back in Amy's town, Tess pulled Andrew with her to a van sitting in the airport parking lot. It was Amy's parents', and it would be towed if it stayed there much longer. She let Andrew drive so she could concentrate on what she was saying. It wasn't going to be easy.  
  
"Angel boy, what is this new thing with you and Monica?" She finally asked.  
  
Andrew looked at her, confused. "What do you mean?"  
  
"Don't give me that, you know exactly what I mean."  
  
"Ok, ok." He sighed. "Monica and I… Tess, I love her."  
  
"I know, baby, I love her too, and she loves us."  
  
"No, Tess. I love her."  
  
"Are you sure?"  
  
Andrew looked at her, becoming angry at what she was saying. "Wait a minute, Tess, what is this? You—you can't just—"  
  
"I'm not, baby. You and Monica have always shared a special bond. I'm not denying that. But you've both been in human form for so long, I wonder if it's affecting you, causing you to see things that aren't really there. You understand?"  
  
"Yeah. Yeah, I understand, but Tess, we thought about this a lot, and we're sure. We know how we feel, and we got the Father's blessing. I know you're probably resistant to the idea, but…"  
  
"Just be careful, baby." Tess said as they pulled into the driveway. "That's all I'm saying." 


	20. Chapter twenty

"What's that?" George White jumped up from his vigil over the two sickest people in the area and started banging on the drum one of the passengers had been carrying as a gift for their grandson. "Something's moving over there! Something's moving in the trees!"  
  
Instantly, the group was on its feet, watching carefully as the branches parted, and out came… a ten-year-old boy.  
  
"Where's my dad…?" He gasped out, and then collapsed at the edge of the site.  
  
"Someone get a blanket!" Tina ran forward to the boy. "He must be lost. George… George?" She looked back, but her husband was lying in the snow. "Oh, God help me…"  
  
"He will." Monica appeared next to her. "Help is on the way. Just keep everyone warm."  
  
"How much longer will it be?" She asked, looking back at the little boy, who was being cared for by a few other women. Her husband looked terribly pale. "I don't know how long he can take this cold."  
  
"It won't be long." She assured her. Then a helicopter came into view, making the ground shake. "There they are. Make sure they find the boy's family. He's been lost for a few days."  
  
"I will. Thank you…" But the angel was gone.  
  
  
  
"Is he ok?" Amy rushed into the hospital room, with Andrew close behind. Tess was home with Christopher. Monica touched Andrew's arm and smiled.   
  
"Maybe we should give them some time." She led him into the waiting room. "Amy's dad is severely dehydrated. He gave all his rations to the others, but now it's going to be awhile before he's back to normal." Then she smiled. "I guess I should've listened when you said it'd be all right."  
  
Andrew laughed, suddenly overcome with love for his best friend. "Have I told you lately how much I love you?" He asked, leaning in to kiss her harder than he ever had before.  
  
"Not to interrupt this beautiful scene…" Amy said from the doorway. The two angels broke apart, Andrew raising an eyebrow at the girl. "But my dad is going to be released in a day or two. Why don't you go back to the house and help Tess? I'll be back with my mom in a while, but we'll be spending a lot of time here."  
  
"Ok." Andrew said. "But you'll probably have school tomorrow, so…"  
  
"I'll get some rest. I'll see you at home?"  
  
"Ok." Monica and Andrew walked out of the room, calm and relaxed. Everything would be fine. 


	21. Epilogue

A few days later, Andrew and Monica were sitting in front of the fireplace in Amy's living room. She and her parents had invited all the angels over for dinner, since they would be leaving in the next few days. The students had planned a goodbye party for Andrew and Monica, their long-time substitute teacher and trainer, and then they would move on to their next assignment. Tess had accepted the new level of her friends' relationship, and it seemed that everything was working out.  
  
"Andrew? Are you ok?" Monica asked when he looked at the floor, distracted.  
  
"Hmm? Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine, I just—I'm really going to miss Amy. You know? It's been so long, I've grown accustomed to having her around."  
  
"I know." She moved slightly so she was sitting in his arms. "But she's going to be ok now. We helped her. You helped her. Be thankful that we were able to handle everything, but know that we need to move on."  
  
"I know. I know…" He kissed her forehead. "I shouldn't have gotten attached."  
  
"That's what makes you so good at this." She said, looking up at him. "I hope they don't have any more trouble."  
  
"They'll be fine." He said, stroking her hair. Then he heard Amy calling and kissed her lightly, pulling her up. "Come on. Let's go."  
  
  
  
"We'll miss you, Andrew! Sure you can't stick around?" Trina winked playfully and Monica raised an eyebrow, looking at him accusingly.  
  
"Sorry, Trina." He said, wrapping an arm around Monica's waist. "We really do need to get going." He saw Tess in the corner with Christopher, playing with his feet. "If we can get Tess to drag herself away from her new toy."  
  
Suddenly one of the girls found the right connection and the speakers blared to life. Andrew bowed to Monica.  
  
"May I have this dance?"  
  
"Of course."   
  
Andrew smiled at Monica, then grabbed her hand and spun her into his arms, swaying her gently to the music. "I told you everything would be fine." He whispered in her ear. "Amy's fine, her parents are safe, I happen to know that Christopher is going to life a long, happy life… and you and I will be together forever."  
  
"You have special sources giving you this information?" She asked teasingly.  
  
"Don't need 'em." He said, and kissed her lovingly as the three angels disappeared, leaving only a dove to sit on the window and watch the world go by. 


End file.
